MCA #0, Friday evening

Jun. 13th, 2025 03:02 pm
grenadesandohana: (neg: angry arms)
[personal profile] grenadesandohana
Steve had been gritting his teeth and pushing through pain all week, nourished only by bland, terrible food, decaf coffee, and stubbornness.

(He was also fueled by his transplant anti-rejection pills, which he'd take for the rest of his life. He hated that.)

He wasn't running, but he was definitely walking up and down the steps of the island until his calves burned, and then did it for another half hour.

(His body had betrayed him after decades of work making it a finely oiled machine. He was punishing it just a little.)

And now he was back in the apartment, looking for something interesting to eat. There was nothing interesting to eat, but he was looking anyway.

[OOC: For Danno.]
mustbeawitch: (smiling and nervous)
[personal profile] mustbeawitch
Lydia was positive she had heard Arden talk about 'barbecue' before, and so she was sure that the restaurant she had chosen for tonight's supper club would be delicious, even if she was once more not sure what she was getting herself into. Perhaps she ought to have consulted her friend, but she had spent the weekend as a ninny and apparently Arden had been some trees, so: extenuating circumstances?

She did hope no one was in the mood for vegetables, as they seemed rather few and far between.

Welcome to Supper Club, everyone!
totalwildcard: (pos: 033)
[personal profile] totalwildcard
It was laundry day! In fact, it was kinda sorta mountains of laundry day, because Harley had been neglecting doing that sort of thing for a li'l bit here, opting instead to just steal new stuff to wear. But there came the day where even the clown princess of crime was going to opt for just hauling an overflowing hamper of dirty clothes over to her nearest laundry place. Hey, Midnight was a lot of things, and for Harley, that thing happened to be a laundromat!

So there she was, hogging nearly all of the machines, about to probably leave at least one all clogged up with loose sequins and/or feathers and other blingy accoutrements of stuff that maybe shoulda been hand washed instead.

Also she had a boom box that was blasting Cyndi Lauper. Sorry/you're welcome?

(it's been too long without a Midnight laundry post. open!)

Selkie Cove, Early Monday Morning

Jun. 9th, 2025 11:19 am
afraid_of_marshmallows: Nathalie Emmanuel in 4 Weddings and a Funeral (Angry - Fuck!)
[personal profile] afraid_of_marshmallows
Arden woke up a little after dawn, curled up on the ground near selkie peak after apparently being a forest all weekend. She generally didn't worry about temperatures unless they hit extremes, but even so, she felt very lucky that it was early summer and not, say, winter, where she could have woken up covered in snow, or a very rainy springtime. The grass was even surprisingly soft to lay on.

But that didn't change the face that she has, in fact, been sleeping on grass and dirt.

"This fucking island," she groaned, pushing herself upwards and dusting herself off.

...Which was how Arden discovered that, much like transforming back from a random animaling, the island had neglected to provide her with clothing to celebrate her return to personhood.

Sometimes this place really was the worst.

[Open if anyone wants to run across a naked and blushing Elemental trying to make her way home!

MCA #0, Monday morning

Jun. 9th, 2025 09:18 am
grenadesandohana: (neg: bleeding and pissed about it)
[personal profile] grenadesandohana
Steve had gone to bed a 20-something super-soldier who'd run around the island being healthy and athletic and woken up in his nearly 40-year-old body that was still recovering from a liver transplant and being shot multiple times. It took three tries to get out of bed and to walk slowly (he wouldn't call it hobbling, but someone else might) towards the kitchen, only to discover that his other self had eaten alllll of the food.

He was blaming the other Danny for drinking all the expensive coffee.

"Dammit," he muttered, staring into the empty fridge.
pocketpretzels: (thinking with menu)
[personal profile] pocketpretzels
If there was anything amiss on the island, Watts was unaware, as he and Steven had done their usual Saturday routine of heading off-island for services and running errands, and then back home where Watts would get to baking and then piano practice.

Today, since strawberry season was officially upon them, he was making strawberry shortcake, slicing the strawberries slowly and methodically as he waited for the biscuits to finish baking.
deathsmajesty: Mia Sara in Legend (zzzLegend - Excuse You)
[personal profile] deathsmajesty
Liliana and Ignis had returned home very late Friday night, late enough that it was past his usual bedtime and verging on hers, so all they did was head up to their room and go to sleep, content to catch up on a week's worth of island news - and possibly sharing news of their own - the following morning.

The island, of course, was amused that they'd made plans, and the next morning it was not Liliana Vess, Planeswalker and the Multiverse's preeminent necromancer who woke up, nor did she wake up next to her newly affianced, Ignis Scientia. Instead, Princess Lili awoke with plans to run off into the woods to find her beloved, Jack O'The Green, and ended up next to--

"Who are you?!"

[For that sassy chap next to her, please!]

MCA #0, Saturday morning

Jun. 7th, 2025 11:25 am
grenadesandohana: (x rogers wwii)
[personal profile] grenadesandohana
Steve and Danny had arrived back from Hawai'i late last night after being released from the hospital earlier in the week. (Well, they thought it had been earlier in the week. Time had gotten weird traveling back from 2010.) They'd taken their bruised selves to separate bedrooms (it had taken only one night to realize that two people with still-healing liver transplant scars and restless sleep habits did not mix) and had gone to sleep.

And now Steve was waking up feeling amazing. Dare he say that he even felt swell?

Because he felt a lot like a super-soldier in the 1940s. He leaped athletically from bed and headed out into the kitchen, preparing to eat all the food he found there while trying to figure out why he wasn't still in London in 1945.

[OOC: Yes, I've swapped to a different Steve again.]

MHA #19, Saturday Morning

Jun. 7th, 2025 08:33 am
needsacatchphrase: made by hollow art (au - just woke up)
[personal profile] needsacatchphrase
Well, Jane had for sure gone to bed as Jane Foster. Which was perfectly normal and fine for this island. But she then went and woke up as a galactic senator who for sure was confused by the non-secret husband in her bed.

And yes, her hair and makeup was somehow perfect upon waking up. And the pajamas were just unnecessarily elaborate.

Because reasons. George Lucas reasons.

"Hello?"

[for sp and the poor, poor boyfriend]
grenadesandohana: (neg: squintyface)
[personal profile] grenadesandohana
The team had come by today to check on them today now that Steve was awake for more than five minutes at time.

He was awake. Awake and bored. Booooooooooooooored. Tired of staring at the ceiling, tired of staring at the wall, tired of eating applesauce and chicken broth, tired of feeling like his head was a balloon trying to drift away thanks to the cocktail of drugs he was on. Tired of the actual balloons, flowers, and cards (even from convicted felons, what the hell, Sang Min, Steve wouldn't send you a card if you'd been in a plane crash).

Steve was taking it out on Danny, who didn't deserve it and had justifiably shut the curtain between them. So now Steve was stuck watching this stupid soap opera he'd insisted he wanted to watch, definitely not falling asleep.

Everything about this situation was stupid and annoying.

[OOC: for the poor roommate.]
chef_chocobro: ((older) (no glasses) amused to the side)
[personal profile] chef_chocobro
After a weekend like the last, Ignis and Liliana had whisked themselves south, shirking their oh-so-pressing duties on the island to cloister for a few days in the sunny countryside villa that had entered their ever-growing roster of hideaways, habitations, and households, and weren't they both better off because of it. Of course, for Ignis, it wasn't just about some well-earned relaxation to ease the physical and mental strain and drain that went with several days hunched over in a workroom or traipsing around Innistrad.

For Ignis, things were rarely so singularly intentioned as that, although yesterday....that had been intentionally simple, a day of basking in each other's company, feasting on local foods, making idle plans that may or may not be followed through on, distractions pending, and just reveling in the intricate steps of their surprisingly easy and endless waltz. And today had been much of the same, with just a bit more laziness involved. Lounging in bed a little later, less complicated recipehs that lent themselves well to distracted cooking, skipping his training forms out on the deck in favor of appreciating the fine work of Liliana's fingers as they plucked at her lyre or brushed through his hair and behind his ears, his head in her laps, as they discussed the artistic merits of more of that Kamigawan poetry she'd recently unearthed.

And now, as evening fell, the next second. The underlying purpose. And also the edge of a potential point of no return. And one might argue that he could still step back from that precipice, but he would find that arguement faulty and flawed. The last few days had only bolstered his convictions.

He might not be able to see the slowly emerging stars in the stretch of sky darkening above them, but he could feel the coolness creeping into the air, he could hear the sounds of the day shifting into the music of the evening, and feel the oh-so-subtle weight of the shadows shifting and lengthening to let him know that the twilight hour was upon them.

"Darling?" He found Liliana, two glasses in one hand and a bottle of one of the wines they had cultivated together on one of their first ventures out here in the other. "I think tonight is an excellent one to enjoy the fruits of our labors. Don't you agree?"

[[ for the paramour, por favor, and NFB for distance~ ]]
betterthanaplan: (lens flare)
[personal profile] betterthanaplan
It was Duke's birthday.

It wasn't something he'd ever made a real big deal about. Most years he wouldn't even notice it happened until well after the day had already passed. But this year? This year, when he looked at the actual date, was one that couldn't be ignored.

According to math, today was the day that Duke turned fifty.

Of course, he'd traveled back and forth through time enough times -- and spent enough chunks of time in places where it just worked different -- that he had absolutely no idea what his "biological" age would be. For all he knew, his body had reset when Lucifer resurrected him and he was actually less than a year old. But his birth date had always been June 2, 1975. And the current date, Fandom-wise (and . . . maybe in this LA? His phone still kept Fandom time, as far as he could tell) was June 2, 2025.

Fifty years. Did he feel fifty? What did fifty even feel like? He knew what "old enough to just fuck off and die" felt like. He didn't feel like that. But hopefully he wouldn't have until he was in his 80s, anyway.

He sat sprawled on Lucifer's couch, a drink on the side table, and tilted his phone this way and that as he used the selfie mode to take in his "reflection". The silver at his temples didn't seem to have grown much over the last couple years, which he supposed was good. There were a few gray hairs in his beard these days, too. Where else was he supposed to see age? None of his parents or grandparents had stuck around long enough -- or lived long enough -- to even get old. He didn't have anything for perspective.

And again, time travel. So.

"Age ain't nothin' but a number," he muttered to himself. And tried to decide if the crows feet around his eyes were too prominent or not.

[for those in LA with him, for ALL the slow play, and look. Day-after is actually REALLY GOOD for me remembering this boy's birthday, okay??]
grenadesandohana: (neg: why are you like this)
[personal profile] grenadesandohana
Danny had been in surgery for six hours on Saturday, Steve for nearly twice that, and then he'd been placed in a medically-induced coma to make sure he stayed out. (His reputation for being an absolutely terrible patient had been put into his file.)

So he was only just opening his eyes for the first time in days, blinking at the horrible, sterile brightness of the hospital lighting.

He wasn't dead. He had that going for him, at least. He opened his mouth to speak, coughed, tried again, failed again.

Steve glared and then moaned softly at the headache that sparked behind his eyes.

So this was bad bad. He settled back on his scratchy pillow and waited for someone to notice he was awake.

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